


Cops on TV

by panchostokes (badwolfrun)



Series: Nick/Greg Ficlets [59]
Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: Greg Has Asthma Now Nobody Can Tell Me Otherwise, Greg Sanders Whump, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-20 04:26:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22076164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badwolfrun/pseuds/panchostokes
Summary: Nick and Greg are at a crime scene when it starts to rain, and Greg busts his ankle.
Relationships: Greg Sanders/Nick Stokes
Series: Nick/Greg Ficlets [59]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1257824
Comments: 10
Kudos: 36





	Cops on TV

**Author's Note:**

> breaking in the new year with a response to an ask that's been sitting in my inbox for...well...a long time lol

They’re in a small suburban neighborhood that’s partially finished, under construction. There was a shootout that stretched across the entire area, the team had split up to cover the vast scene, which stretched over multiple blocks. 

It’s the normal routine, an unspoken division of labor as Greg lays down the markers while Nick snaps photos of potential evidence, though a literal dark cloud hung above them, threatening to burst and wash away all of the evidence.

“Well…this ain’t good,” Nick mutters as a droplet of water splashed onto the back of his hand. He looks over to Greg, and they share a collective moment of concern before they speed up their processing, going as far as they can before Catherine’s voice cackles through the radio.

“Nick, Greg, bag and tag what you got and head back to the lab, I’m riding back with the coroner.”

“Yeah, yeah, copy that, over and out.” 

Nick turns his head and sees that somehow they had down more than a couple of streets, almost half a mile away from where they began.

“Oh, man, I didn’t realize how far we were. I can run back, get the truck while you collect the casings and–” Nick, who had chosen the absolute wrong time to look up, sputters from the light drizzle that turned into speeding bullets of water that slam his body, the speed and heaviness of the rain makes him feel like he’s in the shower at home, but instead of soapy water, he watches as the blood on the street washed down into the sewers.

“Or we could just leg it together,” Greg shouted over the downpour. Nick sighs and nods, and they start in a light jog, before developing into a sprint. Nick allows the sounds of rain and their feet slapping against the pavement filter into static noise, he keeps his ears perked for any unusual sounds, perhaps from larger pieces of evidence that could be revealed by the shift of the scene, but it’s a different sound that ultimately grabs his attention.

A pained groan, the sound of a body slapping onto water, Nick turns and sees Greg face down on the ground, lifting himself up with his hands.

“You alright, G?” Nick shouts over the rain, walking over to help his friend. 

“Fine, I’m fine, just need…need to walk it off, that’s all,” Greg waves off, limps forwards a few steps before he falls down again. “You go on ahead, I’ll catch up.”

“You kidding me? I ain’t leaving you like this. Let’s go, Greggo,” Nick swings Greg’s arm over his shoulder and they resume their trek back, with Greg limping along at a slow pace.

“You know, my mom always warned me not to stay out in the rain too long, or I’d get sick,” Greg huffs, sniffling through his nostrils for effect.

“Yeah, mine too. She had me all bundled up like poor little Randy from ‘A Christmas Story’ every time the wind blew in the wrong direction,” Nick chuckles.

“Didn’t think Momma Stokes would be so…overprotective, when she had, what, five? Other kids to deal with.”

“Six others, and yeah, well, I’m the _baby_ of the family, you know, so…here we are. Don’t think I ever asked you, you got any siblings?” 

“Only child,” Greg shook his head, incidentally splashing some water from the top of his cap onto Nick’s face. “Still got the baby treatment, of course. Actually, I should say ‘get…’”

“Gonna take a stab and say she’s not too happy about you being in the field?”

Greg remained silent, nothing filling the air between them but the pouring rain which somehow intensified, with a flash of lightning and a boom of thunder.

“She…doesn’t know.” 

“You haven’t told your mom that you’ve been working in the field?” 

“She, uh, thinks it’s bad enough that I work in the lab.” 

They rounded the corner, still another street to go. 

“I didn’t even tell her about the lab explosion!” Greg shouts over the rain, his voice raised with his pain.

“Ignorance is bliss, huh? C’mon, G, you’re a grown man, you can take care of yourself–”

“Says the guy who didn’t tell his parents about the stalker incident.” 

“That…they didn’t…that was a low blow, man,” Nick laughs humorlessly. “Well, speaking of that, take it from me, telling your folks what happened yourself will come off a hell of a lot better than it would coming from a third party.” 

“Guess that’s true. I can still hear your Dad’s shouting echo off of the walls of the lab.” 

“They tried to drag my ass back to Texas when they found out. Well, they were already trying, cause of, you know…”

They fall silent again, Greg puts a hand to Nick’s chest so that they could stop for a moment. Nick follows Greg’s body as he moves to sit on a bench.

“You sure you wanna–”

“I’m already drenched head to toe, this isn’t gonna make a difference,” Greg wheezes.

“You okay, man?” Nick asks as he peels off his jacket, holds it over Greg to shield him from the rain as Greg hacks and coughs.

“Just…just a bit tired, s’all,” he breathes in a sharp, painful breath and leans back, his fingers fumbling in his pockets. “I go-got an inhaler…”

“You got asthma?” Nick asks with a scrunched face. 

“Learning all sorts of things about me today, aren’t we?” Greg grumbles as he uses the inhaler, and the rain drops slide down Nick’s frowning face. “Kinda why I moved to the desert, really. Great idea that’s turning out to be. Should have moved to Phoenix or something.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Nick tells him softly, but Greg manages to hear it clear as day, and the rain starts to slow. 

“Stokes, Sanders, you copy?” Brass’ voice comes in through the radio.

“This is Stokes.”

“What, you get lost or somethin’?”

“Went a bit far, that’s all. We’re almost back,” Nick lied.

“Well, hurry up, I ain’t getting any younger.”

“Y’all go on without us, we’ll touch base back the lab!” Nick shouts into the radio.

“With your luck? Fat chance.” 

Greg laughs as Nick throws his hands up in an exaggerated fashion. He nods to Nick that he’s ready to keep going, and Nick hoists him up with support again. They walk wordlessly down the street, being able to cover more ground without utilizing breath to speak, though Nick breaks the silence once they reach another corner, and they see the flashing red and blue lights in the distance.

“I really do get it, you know. Not wanting to tell your ma about things that would just make her worry more…but sometimes…you just gotta like, twist it, you know?” 

“Like I twisted my ankle?” 

They share a laugh as they continue to walk, the weight of their walk getting as lighter as the rain lets up even more.

“Make it sound heroic, like you were chasing a suspect or somethin’–”

“Oh, like that would ease her conscience. Besides, we’re not cops, no matter how much you act like it.”

“Yeah, yeah, we just play cops on TV, is that it?” 

“Brass’ got a point, you know, you got some really shitty luck.”

“Gee, thanks, G.”

“It’s true! And I think it’s rubbing off on me…”

“Hope not,” Nick replies seriously. 

“No wonder Ecklie’s gone bald.”

“You done?”

“Just coping with humor.”

“Yeah, well, get it out now, cause you know we’re not going to hear the end of it when we reach those flashing lights–oh, speak of the Devil,” Nick gestures to the approaching detective.

“You’re in the field, what, two minutes, Sanders, and you already lost your sea legs?”

“Yeah, he’s fine, Jim, thanks for asking.” 

“Yeah, well I’m gonna have to get some reimbursement for the bubble wrap and leashes we’re gonna have to attach to you and Sanders, at this point,” Brass mumbles as Nick shakes his head and helps Greg into his car.

“You do something to piss off Brass or something?” Nick asks, seemingly slightly irritated. 

“Ah, just existing, I guess. I don’t know though, think he secretly likes me.” 

“Well, I s’ppose that’s true, given that _everyone_ likes you, Greg, I mean, who wouldn’t?” Nick flashes him a smile, and Greg suddenly forgets that his ankle hurts, the pain evaporates with the water on the ground.


End file.
